Review of Museum Hours (2012) by Fred S — 21 Sep 2013

Every once in a while a film so unique in style and texture comes along that it must be noted and given it's due, Museum Hours is such a film. More than being 'about' any one subject, Museum Hours is an observational journey of life in two forms, the Kinetic and the Preserved where the viewer is floated between the two with such subtlety that it creates an uncanny, almost hypnotic, sensual melding between audience and medium. For example, one might find themselves interwoven in the present day rawness of an humble street flea market in bleak, wintry Vienna then melted without segue into the Kunsthistorisches Art Museum, part of a small tour group receiving an insightful lecture about Bruegel. In another moment one might be seamlessly transported into the monologues of Johann, the unassuming museum guard, as he weaves a verbal tapestry of memories of his past, his countless hours in observing those who are observing, and what he has come to learn and observe about the paintings and sculptures that surround him only to then be transported to a Vienna bar where once a week there is an 'immigrant night' that celebrates the music and dance of Vienna newcomers from other cultures. The story of the relationship between Johann and Anne, a Canadian who is abruptly thrust into a foreign city by necessity, while important to the flow and adhesion, is only a part of the film's tapestry, not the focus. The focus is observation...civilization, time, architecture, Human relationships, connection, death, art, real life, with a keen eye turned toward the less than affluent...the Bruegel peasants, the rag-tag present day urban flea market merchants and buyers (and merchandise!), the mature working woman who has to borrow money to travel to a foreign land to attend a dying cousin, the humble museum guard, the immigrants who drink, sing and dance in a present day Vienna bar.

The only negative that I can point to is the somewhat affected acting of Mary Margaret O'Hara who works a tad too hard at 'seeming' natural and, pared with the low key subtlety of Bobby Sommer, sometimes sticks out like a plastic Orchid in a Dutch master still life.

The beauty of this film is it's ability to blur the lines between life and art, past and present, reality and projection. And it is these deliciously blurred lines that give Museum Hours it's precise and stunning clarity.